


Unconditional Love

by Kamie007



Series: Fluffy BBC Sherlock Oneshots [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beauty In The Pain, Depressed Sherlock, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I cried writing this, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, NO DEATH, Scared John, Sherlock-centric, Suicide Attempt, failed suicide, i promise no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 15:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamie007/pseuds/Kamie007
Summary: Sherlock finally hits rock bottom. Will John be able to lift him back up and put all of the pieces back together before it's too late?





	Unconditional Love

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel so moved, you can listen to Katy Perry's Unconditionally to enhance the reading!

Sherlock collapses into a heap on the bathroom floor, losing the strength to take another step. His hands moving of their own accord to the bottom shelf, the one John never even looks at, the one Sherlock never wants John to know about. Then, the voices start up again.

_"Hello, Freak. Come to screw stuff up again?"_  
_"Look it's the Freak! The face only a mother could love; oh wait!"_  
_"Shut up, Sherlock! You're only making things worse!"_  
_"That is seriously not good, Sherlock!"_  
_"Mummy wouldn't be happy if she heard about this!"_  
_"Don't be clever, Sherlock, I'm the smart one!"_  
_"freak" "freak!" "Freak!" "FREAK!"_ **_"FREAK!!"_ **

  
The voices spiraled into oblivion as the blade found its home in the top of his left thigh, among scars that ranged from two days old to two decades old. His breath comes out in ragged sobs, but he doesn't dare make too much noise, or else John would hear him, and he doesn't want John to see him like this. So broken; so vulnerable. After making one small cut, Sherlock feels he's regained enough composure to stumble over to the shower and turn it on, masking the sound of his crying. He strips the rest of his clothes and then climbs under the steaming stream of water cascading out of the shower head, where he lets himself cry and lets his mind go numb, while his fingers nimbly whittle at the flesh on his legs. He doesn't pay attention to the fact that the water running down the tub to the drain had gone from clear to pink, and from pink to red. He doesn't notice that the cuts that usually only go through three or four layers of skin start penetrating through seven to eight layers. This day had been too much for him. Too much anger, too much frustration, too many insults, too much hurt, too much unspoken love, too much unrequited affection, too much emotion; he was crumbling. The weight of the world fell heavily on his shoulders, and he was crumbling to the ground.   
But it was okay with him: crumbling was easier than accepting what he felt and acting on it. Crumbling was easier than pretending the stinging insults from Donovan and Anderson didn't find a home in the depths of his heart, as well as the constant overlording of his older brother.   
Crumbling was his only option because the cornerstone he wanted to depend upon wasn't his to lean on. The cornerstone he desperately needed belonged to a woman. His cornerstone hasn't met that woman yet, but he's sure his cornerstone will: after he was out of the equation.   
He still doesn't notice that the usual intoxicating pain that stings on the top of his skin has gotten deeper, and now matches the aching of his soul. He doesn't notice the signs of blood loss. He doesn't notice that his quiet sobs had turned to racking screams. He doesn't notice the pounding on the door, the voice of the cornerstone he so desperately wants to be his. As the blade slips between his fingertips to fall on the floor of the tub, he doesn't notice the bathroom door being kicked down. He doesn't notice the blood-drained face filled with fear looming over him, surveying the scene. He doesn't notice the tears running down his cornerstone's face. He doesn't notice the water being turned off. He doesn't notice the towel being pressed to the wounds on his leg. He doesn't notice being carried out of the bathtub and placed on the floor. He doesn't notice his pants being pulled on with care. He doesn't notice the cries of despair and fear coming from the man he wanted nothing more than to love. He doesn't notice the hands of the paramedics loading him onto the stretcher. He doesn't notice the cries of fear from his beloved landlady. He doesn't hear the desperate pleas of his cornerstone demanding to be allowed to ride alongside him. He doesn't notice the warm hand clutching at his cold one, begging him to stay alive. Then, laying in the hospital bed after the doctors and nurses had done all they could, as he prepares himself to let the final pieces fall, he finally notices the words that provide a cornerstone for his broken pieces to cling to.   
"I love you, Sherlock. Please don't leave me."  
His eyes flicker open, and he has to fight to keep them open against the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights assaulting his sensitive sight. Then, his eyes find the face of his cornerstone, and what he saw was not what he expected. He expected anger, malice, hate, or disgust, but what he saw was fear, sincerity, hope, and love written across the tear-stained cheeks, the closed red-rimmed eyes, and the worry-wrinkled forehead. He's still beautiful, Sherlock thought of his love, his cornerstone, his John, even when marred by exhaustion and fear.   
_Did he mean it?_  
The question that weighed heavily on his mind. John's body is then racked with heartbreaking sobs as he clutches Sherlock's right hand, not knowing he is awake. Sherlock is able to understand the words that break through his sobs, and they put Sherlock's doubt to rest.   
"Sherlock, please! Wake up! I love you, you bastard! I mean it! I can't live without you! I'm so sorry you felt it had to come to this, I'm sorry I didn't see the signs sooner, and I'm sorry I never told you how I felt! But now look at where we are! I can't help but wonder if I could have stopped this from happening just by saying 'I love you?' What if you die, and I never get to tell you? How will I live with myself? God, Sherlock, please wake up. Please don't give up!"   
Sherlock can't help the smile that slides across his lips. A genuine smile which hadn't graced his features often in the past few years, and when it did, it was always because of John. Sherlock moves his left hand to cup John's face, startling the crying man. Then, Sherlock observes as his eyes fill with joy and wonder before fear and doubt cloud his beautiful eyes.   
"You don't have to live without me, John. Not anymore. And, sorry, but the answer is actually yes...all it took was for you to say those three simple words to keep me alive. I had resigned myself to crumbling, to falling to pieces, but then you said those magic words and you became my cornerstone, keeping my pieces off the ground. And don't feel guilty about not seeing this coming. I am an excellent liar. But, I promise you I'm not lying when I say this: John Watson, you are my cornerstone, my best friend, and I love you more than life itself. I'm sorry for causing you pain and worry. You deserve so much more than me. That's actually why I went so far this time. I was thinking how you had a woman out there waiting for you to be  _her_  cornerstone, and I figured the sooner I was gone, the sooner you could find her."  
"Well, I guess she's going to be waiting on me for a long, long time, because I am yours, Sherlock. My heart belongs to you, and I couldn't give it to someone else if I tried."   
Sherlock lifts himself off the bed slightly as he brings John's head down to meet his, and they finally find peace for their hearts in the tender love of their first kiss.


End file.
